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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380008">Could You Watch Over Them For Me?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/losingmymindtonight/pseuds/losingmymindtonight'>losingmymindtonight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Songfic!Verse [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Birthday, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by Music, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Tony may be gone but he leaves his family together, Uncle James "Rhodey" Rhodes, but not in a bad way, sorry y'all</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:34:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,692</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380008</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/losingmymindtonight/pseuds/losingmymindtonight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Pepper doesn’t ask about the third drink, but Peter can see in her eyes that she knows who it’s for.</i><br/>--<br/>It's Peter's 21st birthday, and while he has to face the milestone without Tony, he doesn't have to face it alone.<br/>Or, Rhodey gives Peter his first legal drink.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Rhodey" Rhodes &amp; Tony Stark, Peter Parker &amp; James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Songfic!Verse [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/946089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>398</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Could You Watch Over Them For Me?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>WARNINGS: grief, alcohol (but it's all legal bc my boy is 21!), brief mentions of depression, allusion to past suicidal thoughts</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><span>"...Maybe once he gets older,<br/>
you can sit and have that first cold beer together,<br/>
and tell him a couple stories on his father.<br/>
</span><span>He's always known you're my best friend.</span><br/>
That's why I'm asking,<br/>
if something should happen..."</p><p>
  <span>Darryl Worley // If Something Should Happen</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pepper doesn’t ask about the third drink, but Peter can see in her eyes that she knows who it’s for. The sadness swoops across her expression first, just like it always does, but then there’s a breathtaking moment of pure, absolving, </span>
  <em>
    <span>violent </span>
  </em>
  <span>love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She taps a finger over the rim of the glass, then turns to Peter with a gentle smile. He doesn’t resist when she reaches out to cup his face and presses a kiss to his forehead. It stings a little, deep down, as the ghost-memories of Tony doing the same rise to meet her touch, but it’s nice, too. He’s learned how to displace the guilt, the grief, with gratitude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’ll always cherish the family that Tony left behind. The family he left for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May and I are just inside, whenever you get done,” Pepper murmurs, and Peter knows what she means. </span>
  <em>
    <span>When you get done grieving. When you get done processing that this is just another milestone he’s missed. When you get done wishing that he was here. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Don’t stay out too long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t spend too long torturing yourself with what-ifs and futures you’ll never touch.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t,” he whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For once, he means it. He wouldn’t have, a few years back, but just as he’s learned to temper his loss with love, he’s learned to temper his longing with sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remembering Tony is lovely, wonderful, but there’s only so long that the living should stay with the dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” She steps back, towards the door, although she stalls to point at Rhodey. “Don’t let him get wasted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhodey raises his hands in surrender, although his unrepenting grin tells an entirely different story. “I thought that was my solemn duty, as the fun uncle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhodey winks at him, and while the heaviness is still there, it’s easier to face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A shame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it, James. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One </span>
  </em>
  <span>drink. The sun’s still up and, for that matter, so is Morgan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One drink,” Rhodey promises. “You can count on me. Besides, I promised Happy that we’d save his first hangover for this weekend, when we can both be there to enjoy it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter cringes at the concept. He’s seen his fair share of hangovers, thank you very much, and he doesn’t have any intentions of racing his way to one of his own. “Uh, I don’t think I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>a hangover, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pepper’s smile at the comment is unabridged, yet quiet. Peter knows that he’s lucky to see it that way. There are few people on Earth who know Pepper Potts as anything other than CEO. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be good,” she cautions, although there’s nothing but fondness in the words. “Both of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The screen door twangs shut as she leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How d’you know I haven’t had my first hangover already?” Peter asks, leaning back in his rocking chair. “I’ve had three long years of college to go for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhodey snorts. “Because if you had, you would’ve told me.” He reaches across the table and takes his drink, hands Peter his. The third one sits untouched. “Here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glass is cool in Peter’s hands, the edges soft and curved. He runs his fingers over the design, marveling at how intricate it is. He knows without a doubt that it’s expensive, and that fact makes a weird sense of understanding fill him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only one person Peter knows (</span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>) who would’ve spent that much money on whiskey tumblers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he whispers, and he can’t pinpoint why the phrase feels so monumental, but it does, and it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to thank me,” Rhodey answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s so much sincerity in his voice that Peter’s heart stutters. He flounders, trying to come up with a response, but Rhodey keeps going, gesturing to the drink in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on. Try it. Even if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>been drinking up in Cambridge, I’d bet you a month’s rent that you haven’t had that before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter takes a sip of the liquor and forces himself not to wince as it burns its way down his throat. If he’s being honest, it tastes exactly the same as every other alcohol he’d ever tried, but he’s not sure he wants to admit that out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A second later, though, Rhodey laughs, and Peter realizes that his expression probably gave the thought away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not my favorite, either,” Rhodey admits, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why’d you choose it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>favorite, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tony’s.” Rhodey shrugs as if those few words weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I know it’s what he would’ve given you. The tumblers were his, too, but they’re yours now, if you want them. You don’t have to use them for whiskey, obviously, but it’s nice to have a set laying around. Just in case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s gaze drifts down. He imagines Tony holding this exact glass, as he must’ve once, and his throat tightens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m only gonna fill them with, like, apple juice,” he finally chokes out. “Maybe milk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, Tony’d probably prefer that to the alternative. And so would I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The quiet that lulls then is gentle, and within it, Peter finds his gaze drawn to the unclaimed glass. He and Rhodey hadn’t talked about it, planned it. It’s inclusion had been an unspoken choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He should be here,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Peter thinks, a wave of almost tears flooding him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Him, Ben, my father. They should all be here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet he’s glad, so inexplicably </span>
  <em>
    <span>glad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that Rhodey’s with him. When Thanos had come, they’d barely known each other. And yet something had happened in the after. Peter always thought that it sparked in the very second that Tony had died, because when the framework of both their worlds had crumbled, Rhodey had been holding him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, their relationship is a given. A constant. Rhodey had helped him study for the SAT, fill out college applications, had moved him into his dorm at MIT. And here he is now, on Peter’s 21st birthday, handing him his first legal drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s about to comment on the poetry of it all when Rhodey clears his throat, face tightening into an expression that tells Peter he’s about to say something sentimental. His eyes stay trained on the lake, although Peter knows that every ounce of his attention is on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a damn good kid, Pete,” Rhodey finally says. “I wish Tony was here, and I wish he’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>been </span>
  </em>
  <span>here, but watching you grow up these past few years... well, it’s been the best damn thing to happen to me since he died. And I want you to know that I’m proud of you, for making it work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The implicit </span>
  <em>
    <span>and for not giving up</span>
  </em>
  <span> hangs between them, and it carries more weight than a stranger might have realized. After all, both of them know just how close Peter had come to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>giving up</span>
  </em>
  <span> once or twice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet here they are.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to thank Rhodey for saying what he said. Wants to tell him that, without him, Peter didn’t think he would’ve made it to 21 years, and that even if he had, he’d be a shell of who he was today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not what comes out of his mouth, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you… Do you think that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>proud of me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhodey physically twists in his seat to look at him. “Yeah, kid. Of course he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But how do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhodey laughs, and maybe it’s just a tiny bit pained, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t happiness there, too. Peter’s learned to find the glimmer of sunshine in rain clouds. They all have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, Pete, there’s this golden thing that happens when you’re someone’s kid: they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>proud of you.” Rhodey sets his glass aside, catching Peter’s gaze and holding it. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he’s proud of you, wherever he is. It’s part of the deal. He’d love no matter what you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small, wobbly smile pulls at his mouth. “But what if I, like, murdered a bunch of people with an ax?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Getting a bit scarily specific there,” Rhodey mutters, using a tone that tells Peter that he knows what he’s doing, knows that he’s deflecting, “but, yeah. He’d love you then, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft breeze brushes their faces. For a breath of a moment, Peter imagines that it feels like a hand against his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss him,” he whispers. To Rhodey. To the cabin. To the wind. And maybe, just a little bit, to Tony.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please hear me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So do I,” Rhodey murmurs, solemn. But then his face brightens, and he shakes his head, as if clearing it. The atmosphere lifts. “But today’s a good day, even if it isn’t exactly the way we might’ve planned it. And, anyway, Tony’d kick my ass if I let you spend your 21st looking like a kicked puppy. So drink your whiskey, and let’s get inside for dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhodey’s right. Today </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a good day. He’s spent it with the people he loves, and even if some of them weren’t physically there, that didn’t make them any less present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He forces himself to down the rest of his drink. This time, he openly pulls a face, Rhodey snickers at him, and they both laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they go inside, Peter pauses in the doorway, glancing back to see if Rhodey’s following. He finds the older man lingering outside, by the railing, his face tilted up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got him, Tones,” the man whispers, so low that Peter quickly realizes he wasn’t supposed to hear. “He’s safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s chest fuzzes, and in a rush, he realizes that it’s true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s safe. He misses Tony, and he always will, but he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They leave the third glass on the porch, still full. They’ll get it later, maybe, but for now, Peter knows this:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t need a symbol to prove that Tony’s with him, that he loves him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Distance is arbitrary, anyway.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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